Halima Ahmed

The Customer - Poem by Halima Ahmed

This was an actual conversation that took place between me and a customer of mine.....

She screamed from the door “do you speak French”With a fatigued smile, I informed her, no ma’am but we have someone who does.As I made my way to find, my French co-worker, she tapped my shoulder.African? Uncertainty of her inquires, I said, excuse me? She said, “are you African” with a tone that conveyed a deep message.A message of betrayal, Long struggle and sadness, I sensed the nostalgia behind her voice, The agony of being a refugee, I swear, every wrinkle on her face had a story of their own.Are you African? She asked again…This time with firmness in her voiceYes! I am an African.She came closer, and with a smile on her face she asked in a whispery tone“are you a Muslim”I said in a voice louder than hers when she asked “do you speak French”Yes, Alhamdulilah…I am a Muslim.As if my hijab has failed to make that statement, Or perhaps the long black dress I woreAlhamdulilah, I am a muslim.With sadness in her voice, And a dropp of tears from her eyes, She said…”.It was a beautiful faith”Before, fate forced me to abandon my faith…Her tale was compellingly sad and confusing, …But my manager demanded, I get back to work….As I sit to pray Magrib now, I look forward to that old customer of mine, perhaps tomorrow or the day after.., Who screamed with pride“do you speak French”Asked in a soft tone “African”…”Are you African”And in a whispery tone..said “are you Muslim”